Universal via Everett Collection
Somewhere inside of Pitch Perfect there exists the movie it wants to be. Buried beneath the scathing send-ups of the dreamer genre, there are actual dreamers. Ones we're charged to root for — after all, we are hinged to their story about "making it to regionals," or whatever — but that we can't. Because the film itself refuses to do so. At once, it's a celebration of the socially disbarred and a satire of all the sugar-coated entertainment that has been devoted to it... okay, mostly Glee. And while this marriage isn't necessarily doomed, too often does Pitch Perfect find itself torn between asking us to root for its heroes and asking us to laugh at its victims (the same people). We can't say for sure whether something was lost in translation from script to screen, or of Kay Cannon's original screenplay was laden with the troubles we find on the screen, but we're hoping that the upcoming sequel's new director, actress Elizabeth Banks, can figure out her animal better than first installment helmer Jason Moore could.
In order to do so, she'll have to know when the movie need to stop laughing at these people. And here's a good indicator: if it is laughing at them for being fat or gay, you've probably taken a wrong turn.
The film offers glimpses of its potential — loner Anna Kendrick identifying Brittany Snow's shared familiarity with David Guetta's "Titanium" as awe-inspiring (one of the film's better attempts at tackling a genre staple) — but undoes its own mission when it turns the trope battering in on its characters. Pitch Perfect sets up its underdog a capella clique as a group of eccentrics with whom we're supposed to relate: genuine talents unappreciated due to weight, race, sexual orientation, and a laundry list of personality defects. But just when you think the movie is on their side, it jumps right on in, poking fun at Rebel Wilson's character for her size and Ester Dean's for her homosexuality. And one might spout the defense, "But these girls are making fun of themselves!" Well, that's the problem. They think they have to.
Wilson's breakout character goes by "Fat Amy," underlining her self-assigned moniker with the rationale, "So twig b**ches like you [she's talking to Anna Camp] don't do it behind my back." Therein lies the film's defeat. It thinks that these girls have no shot at dignity, so they have to succumb to self-parody. This is not simply embracing a sense of humor about yourself (a valuable characteristic) but becoming the joke that everybody says you are because you don't see any other choice. And Pitch Perfect doesn't just limit this fate to "Fat Amy," but to its excessively marginalized gay character, Cynthia Rose (Dean).
Universal via Everett Collection
The joke about Dean? The same joke that has been assigned to gay characters since before the days of Three's Company, and that still, by some grace of ungodly ignorance, works its way into network television and blockbuster cinema today. Her sexual orientation is her punchline. For the length of Pitch Perfect, we're offered "hints" that Cynthia Rose is attracted to women — the way she dresses and carries herself are brandished as lesbian stereotypes, and we even get a scene of her groping fellow a capella band member Stacie (Alexis Knapp) for good measure. And then, finally, concrete evidence: "When I broke up with my girlfriend..." followed by a de facto rimshot from Rebel Wilson.
Of course, Pitch Perfect was a hit, and this is owed to a very simple, very convenient allowance made by its story: the singing. Yes, these girls can sing. And when they get up on that stage at the end of the film and belt their heroic ballads, it's as if the film is saying, "See? We were behind them all along!" But giving stars like Wilson and Rose solos doesn't retroactively make Pitch Perfect's mean-spirited attitude about their identities "good natured ribbing." We were still asked to look at Fat Amy as a fat girl first, swelling with laughter at her inability to run, her propensity for falling down, and — most riotous of all — the inscrutable idea that she might consider herself sexy. You can endorse this material all you like with defenses that Fat Amy and Wilson herself were on board with the gags, but the simple fact that the one overweight young woman in this movie feels no other course than to dominate her screen time with fat jokes is unforgivable. Some would call it wise advice to garnish an embarrassing faux-pas with some self-effacing humor; this is not how heavy people should made to be felt about the way they look.
In earnest, there's optimism attached to Banks' ascension into the director's chair. Although she has never handled a feature on her own, her comic sensibilities as an actress, and as a woman, might be more conducive to a little bit of respect for the young ladies at the center of this story. We can hope, anyway — with a wealth of talent in stars like Kendrick, Wilson, Dean, Camp, Snow, and the rest, and in a writer like Cannon, there's too much good to let the end product wind up so misguided.
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After Dark Films
It seems a bit odd to take on a movie review of Courtney Solomon's Getaway, as only in the loosest terms is Getaway actually a movie. We begin without questions — other than a vague and frustrating "What the hell is going on?" — and end without answers, watching Ethan Hawke drive his car into things (and people) for the hour and a half in between. We learn very little along the way, probed to engage in the mystery of the journey. But we don't, because there's no reason to.
There's not a single reason to wonder about any of the things that happen to Hawke's former racecar driver/reformed criminal — forced to carry out a series of felonious commands by a mysterious stranger who is holding his wife hostage — because there doesn't seem to be a single ounce of thought poured into him beyond what he see. We learn, via exposition delivered by him to gun-toting computer whiz Selena Gomez, that he "did some bad things" before meeting the love of his life and deciding to put that all behind him. Then, we stop learning. We stop thinking. We start crashing into police cars and Christmas trees and power plants.
Why is Selena Gomez along for the ride? Well, the beginnings of her involvement are defensible: Hawke is carrying out his slew of vehicular crimes in a stolen car. It's her car. And she's on a rampage to get it back. But unaware of what she's getting herself into, Gomez confronts an idling Hawke with a gun, is yanked into the automobile, and forced to sit shotgun while the rest of the driver's "assignments" are carried out. But her willingness to stick by Hawke after hearing his story is ludicrous. Their immediate bickering falls closer to catty sexual tension than it does to genuine derision and fear (you know, the sort of feelings you'd have for someone who held you up or forced you into accessorizing a buffet of life-threatening crimes).
After Dark Films
The "gradual" reversal of their relationship is treated like something we should root for. But with so little meat packed into either character, the interwoven scenes of Hawke and Gomez warming up to each other and becoming a team in the quest to save the former's wife serve more than anything else as a breather from all the grotesque, impatient, deliberately unappealing scenes of city wreckage.
And as far as consolidating the mystery, the film isn't interested in that either, as evidenced by its final moments. Instead of pressing focus on the answers to whatever questions we may have, the movie's ultimate reveal is so weak, unsubstantial, and entirely disconnected to the story entirely, that it seems almost offensive to whatever semblance of a film might exist here to go out on this note. Offensive to the idea of film and story in general, as a matter of fact. But Getaway isn't concerned with these notions. Not with story, character, logic, or humanity. It just wants to show us a bunch of car crashes and explosions. So you'd think it might have at least made those look a little better.
1/5
More Reviews:'The Hunt' Is Frustrating and Fantastic'You're Next' Amuses and Occasionally Scares'Short Term 12' Is Real and Miraculous
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Salvador Dalí is often quoted as saying "I don't do drugs I am drugs." Whether or not this is a case of attribution decay it's certainly an appropriate statement for the surreal artist. Although it would be silly to suggest that John Dies at the End is on par with such an influential artist (and the movie will certainly never take over Dalí's monopoly of dorm room posters and assorted ephemera) it definitely feels like taking a trip down the rabbit hole.
Chase Williamson and Rob Mayes star as Dave and John respectively best buds and regular dudes who find themselves face to face with grotesque monsters from alternate dimensions and a panoply of other mind-bending horrors all thanks to a drug nicknamed Soy Sauce. The Sauce is an icky sentient black goop that destroys most of the people who inject it (and those who live will never be the same). When we meet Dave and John they're problem-solvers of a sort; if something weird is happening to you — say you're being harassed by your dead boyfriend — they're the ones to call.
The Sauce didn't kill them; it has given them a certain insight into the twisted nature of the universe. Much to Dave's dismay it chose them to save us from certain doom on a regular basis starting with a gross creature from another dimension called Korrok. It's kind of a bubbly vat of sentient goo with one terrible eyeball and it gains knowledge through osmosis. Naturally Korrok would like to nibble on Dave and John to learn their ways so it and a whole legion of freaky followers can hop into our dimension and take over the world we live in. Before they can do that they have a whole host of other problems to deal with like John's untimely demise for starters.
John Dies at the End is a logic puzzle that the viewer has to tease out the meaning of. It benefits from subsequent viewings especially since writer/director Don Coscarelli and author David Wong throw so much at you from the very beginning. (Coscarelli adapted the book for the screen.) It's a hallucinatory midnight movie that is so damn fun it's easy to forgive just how hazy it seems in hindsight. There's also a certain sense of disappointment when Dave and John's mission comes to an end possibly because the two characters and all the weird things they encounter are so entertaining that we hate to leave them.
Coscarelli fans will especially appreciate a small cameo by Angus Scrimm who played the terrifying Tall Man in Coscarelli's Phantasm series as a priest. And any genre lover worth their Sauce will love seeing Doug Jones out of prosthetics (but no less disarming) as a creepy interstellar traveler. Paul Giamatti plays a skeptical journalist who's writing a story about Dave and his misadventures; this narrative is the framing device and ultimately is a bit of a disappointment.
The practical effects have a nice goopy look to them and Coscarelli makes the smart decision to use an animated sequence for some scenes that would have been extraordinarily difficult to create on such a small budget. John Dies at the End is alternately trippy gross and droll and it has a cool B-movie vibe without looking too cheap. Although it's available on demand this would be a fun night out at the movies.

Olivia Wilde is engaged to marry Jason Sudeikis after the funnyman proposed over the holidays.
The Tron: Legacy star began dating Sudeikis in late 2011, and Wilde's spokeswoman, Joy Fehily, has now confirmed to the Associated Press that the couple is planning to marry.
The news comes just weeks after Wilde dismissed previous rumours of an engagement. She took to her Twitter.com page last month (Dec12) to clarify her relationship status, writing, "No I'm not engaged but I AM at the (Rolling) Stones show."
Wilde was previously married to Tao Ruspoli, but they divorced in 2011, while this will also be Sudeikis' second trip down the aisle. His marriage to screenwriter Kay Cannon ended in divorce in 2010.
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David Mitchell's novel Cloud Atlas consists of six stories set in various periods between 1850 and a time far into Earth's post-apocalyptic future. Each segment lives on its own the previous first person account picked up and read by a character in its successor creating connective tissue between each moment in time. The various stories remain intact for Tom Tykwer's (Run Lola Run) Lana Wachowski's and Andy Wachowski's (The Matrix) film adaptation which debuted at the Toronto International Film Festival. The massive change comes from the interweaving of the book's parts into one three-hour saga — a move that elevates the material and transforms Cloud Atlas in to a work of epic proportions.
Don't be turned off by the runtime — Cloud Atlas moves at lightning pace as it cuts back and forth between its various threads: an American notary sailing the Pacific; a budding musician tasked with transcribing the hummings of an accomplished 1930's composer; a '70s-era investigatory journalist who uncovers a nefarious plot tied to the local nuclear power plant; a book publisher in 2012 who goes on the run from gangsters only to be incarcerated in a nursing home; Sonmi~451 a clone in Neo Seoul who takes on the oppressive government that enslaves her; and a primitive human from the future who teams with one of the few remaining technologically-advanced Earthlings in order to survive. Dense but so was the unfamiliar world of The Matrix. Cloud Atlas has more moving parts than the Wachowskis' seminal sci-fi flick but with additional ambition to boot. Every second is a sight to behold.
The members of the directing trio are known for their visual prowess but Cloud Atlas is a movie about juxtaposition. The art of editing is normally a seamless one — unless someone is really into the craft the cutting of a film is rarely a post-viewing talking point — but Cloud Atlas turns the editor into one of the cast members an obvious player who ties the film together with brilliant cross-cutting and overlapping dialogue. Timothy Cavendish the elderly publisher could be musing on his need to escape and the film will wander to the events of Sonmi~451 or the tortured music apprentice Robert Frobisher also feeling the impulse to run. The details of each world seep into one another but the real joy comes from watching each carefully selected scene fall into place. You never feel lost in Cloud Atlas even when Tykwer and the Wachowskis have infused three action sequences — a gritty car chase in the '70s a kinetic chase through Neo Seoul and a foot race through the forests of future millennia — into one extended set piece. This is a unified film with distinct parts echoing the themes of human interconnectivity.
The biggest treat is watching Cloud Atlas' ensemble tackle the diverse array of characters sprinkled into the stories. No film in recent memory has afforded a cast this type of opportunity yet another form of juxtaposition that wows. Within a few seconds Tom Hanks will go from near-neanderthal to British gangster to wily 19th century doctor. Halle Berry Hugh Grant Jim Sturgess Jim Broadbent Ben Whishaw Hugo Weaving and Susan Sarandon play the same game taking on roles of different sexes races and the like. (Weaving as an evil nurse returning to his Priscilla Queen of the Desert cross-dressing roots is mind-blowing.) The cast's dedication to inhabiting their roles on every level helps us quickly understand the worlds. We know it's Halle Berry behind the fair skinned wife of the lunatic composer but she's never playing Halle Berry. Even when the actors are playing variations on themselves they're glowing with the film's overall epic feel. Jim Broadbent's wickedly funny modern segment a Tykwer creation that packs a particularly German sense of humor is on a smaller scale than the rest of the film but the actor never dials it down. Every story character and scene in Cloud Atlas commits to a style. That diversity keeps the swirling maelstrom of a movie in check.
Cloud Atlas poses big questions without losing track of its human element the characters at the heart of each story. A slower moment or two may have helped the Wachowskis' and Tykwer's film to hit a powerful emotional chord but the finished product still proves mainstream movies can ask questions while laying over explosive action scenes. This year there won't be a bigger movie in terms of scope in terms of ideas and in terms of heart than Cloud Atlas.
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Do the Bourne movies make any sense? Enough. The first three films — The Bourne Identity Supremacy and Ultimatum — throw in just enough detail into the covert ops babble and high-speed action that by the end Jason Bourne comes out an emotional character with an evident mission. That's where Bourne Legacy drops the ball. A "sidequel" to the original trilogy Legacy follows super soldier Aaron Cross (Jeremy Renner) as he runs jumps and shoots his way out of the hands of his government captors. The film is identical to its predecessors; political intrigue chase scenes morally ambiguous CIA agents monitoring their man-on-the-run from a computer-filled HQ — a Bourne movie through and through. But Legacy has to dig deeper to find new ground to cover introducing elements of sci-fi into the equation. The result is surprisingly limp and even more incomprehensible.
Damon's Bourne spent three blockbusters uncovering his past erased by the assassin training program Treadstone. Renner's Alex Cross has a similar do-or-die mission: after Bourne's antics send Washington into a tizzy Cross' own training program Outcome is terminated. Unlike Bourne Cross is enhanced by "chems" (essentially steroid drugs) that keep him alive and kicking ass. When Outcome is ended Cross goes rogue to stay alive and find more pills.
Steeped heavily in the plot lines of the established mythology Bourne Legacy jumps back and forth between Cross and the clean up job of the movie's big bad (Edward Norton) and his elite squad of suits. The movie balances a lot of moving parts but the adventure never feels sprawling or all that exciting. Actress Rachel Weisz vibrant in nearly every role she takes on plays a chemist who is key to Cross' chemical woes. The two are forced into partnership Weisz limited to screaming cowering and sneaking past the occasional airport x-ray machine while her partner aggressively fistfights his way through any hurdle in his path. Renner is equally underserved. Cross is tailored to the actor's strengths — a darker more aggressive character than Damon's Bourne but with one out of every five of the character's lines being "CHEMS!" shouted at the top of his lungs Renner never has the time or the material to develop him.
Writer/director Tony Gilroy (Michael Clayton Duplicity and the screenwriter of the previous three movies) is a master of dense language but his style choices can't breath life into the 21st century epic speak. In the film's necessary car chase Gilroy mimics the loose camera style of Ultimatum director Paul Greengrass without fully embracing it. The wishy washy approach sucks the life out of large-scale set pieces. The final 30 minutes of Bourne Legacy is a shaky cam naysayer's worst nightmare.
The Bourne Legacy demonstrates potential without ever kicking into high gear. One scene when Gilroy finally slows down and unleashes absolute terror on screen is striking. Unfortunately the moment doesn't involve our hero and its implications never explained. That sums up Legacy; by the film's conclusion it only feels like the first hour has played out. The movie crawls — which would be much more forgivable if the intense banter between its large ensemble carried weight. Instead Legacy packs the thrills of an airport thriller: sporadically entertaining and instantly forgettable.
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The trailers for Hope Springs might lead you to believe it's a romantic comedy about a couple trying to jumpstart their sexless marriage but it causes more empathetic cringing than chuckles. Audiences will be drawn to Hope Springs by its stars Meryl Streep Tommy Lee Jones and Steve Carell and Streep's track record of pleasing summer movies like Julie &amp; Julia and Mamma Mia! that offer a respite from the blockbusters flooding theaters. Despite what its marketing might have you believe Hope Springs isn't a rom-com. The film is a disarming mixture of deeply intimate confessions by a married couple in the sanctuary of a therapist's office awkwardly honest attempts by that couple to physically reconnect and incredibly sappy scenes underscored by intrusive music. Boldly addressing female desire especially in older women it's hard not to give the movie extra credit for what writer Vanessa Taylor's script is trying to convey and its rarity in mainstream film. The ebb and flow of intimacy and desire in a long-term relationship is what drives Hope Springs and while there are plenty contrived moments and unresolved issues it is frankly surprising and surprisingly frank. It's a summer release from a major studio with high caliber stars aimed squarely at the generally underserved 50+ audience addressing the even more taboo topic of that audience's sex life.
Streep plays Kay a suburban wife who's deeply unsatisfied emotionally and sexually by her marriage to Arnold. Arnold who is played by Tommy Lee Jones as his craggiest sleeps in a separate bedroom now that their kids have left the nest; he's like a stone cold robot emotionally and physically and Kay tiptoes around trying to make him happy even as he ignores her every gesture. One of the most striking scenes in the movie is at the very beginning when Kay primps and fusses over her modest sleepwear in the hopes of seducing her husband. Streep makes it obvious that this isn't an easy thing for Kay; it takes all her guts to try and wordlessly suggest sex to her husband and when she's shot down it hurts to watch. This isn't a one time disconnect between their libidos; this is an ongoing problem that leaves Kay feeling insecure and undesirable.
After a foray into the self-help section of her bookstore Kay finds a therapist who holds week-long intensive couples' therapy sessions in Good Hope Springs ME and in a seemingly unprecedented moment of decisiveness she books a trip for the couple. Arnold of course is having none of it but he eventually comes along for the ride. That doesn't mean he's up for answering any of Dr. Feld's questions though. To be fair Dr. Feld (Carell) is asking the couple deeply intimate questions so if Arnold is comfortable foisting his amorous wife off with the excuse he had pork for lunch it's not so far-fetched to believe he'd be angry when Feld asks him about his fantasy life or masturbation habits.
Although Arnold gets a pass on some of his issues Kay is forthright about why and how she's dissatisfied. When Dr. Feld asks her if she masturbates she says she doesn't because it makes her too sad. Kay offers similar revelations; she's willing to bare it all to revive her marriage while Arnold thinks the fact that they're married at all means they must be happy. Carell's Dr. Feld is soothing and kind (even a bit bland) but it's always a pleasure to see him play it straight.
It's subversive for a mega-watt star to play a character that talks about how sexually unsatisfied she is and how unsexy she feels with the man she loves most in the world. The added taboo of Kay and Arnold's age adds that much more to the conversation. Kay and Arnold's attempts at intimacy are emotionally raw and hard to watch. Even when things get funny they're mostly awkward funny not ha-ha funny.
The rest of the movie is a little uneven wrapped up tightly and happily by the end. Their time spent soul-searching alone is a little cheesy especially when Kay ends up in a local bar where she gets a little dizzy on white wine while dishing about her problems to the bartender (Elisabeth Shue). Somewhere along the line what probably started out as a character study ended up as a wobbly drama that pushes some boundaries but eventually lets everyone off the emotional hook in favor of a smoothed-over happy ending. Still its disarming moments and performances almost balance it out. Although its target audience might be dismayed to find it's not as light-hearted as it would seem Hope Springs offers up the opportunity for discussion about sexuality and aging at a time when books and films like 50 Shades of Grey and Magic Mike are perking up similar conversations. In the end that's a good thing.

True Blood prides itself on one very important factor: The ability to leave us stunned. Sometimes that stunner is a big reveal like learning that the nice old boy from New Orleans is actually a murderous villain or that the nice lady who helped Tara get back on her feet is actually turning the whole town into sex-demons. Then there are the stunners that are a little more character-based, like Jason realizing that sleeping with every pair of breasts with legs isn’t going to fill the hole in his heart or Pam realizing that she actually does care about Tara, the “stupid b**ch.” Even when the series has been giving us hints for two episodes, seeing our favorite one-dimensional characters grow into full-fledged, feeling people never ceases to elicit at least a little awe. And if the character growth didn’t really amaze you, you’ll have to be satisfied with Tara’s Original Recipe suicide plan.
First, let’s deal with the continual mess that is Tara. After withstanding the silver spray at Sookie’s house, Tara has escaped, and she’s quickly figuring out how to drive her new vampire body. She heals quickly after the silver spray (plus!), but she can barely hear this young woman speak over the beating of her blood-filled heart (gosh-darn!). Tara attacks a stranded young woman until she sees her vicious reflection and immediately regrets her actions. She actually sees herself become the thing she hates and it’s killing her.
Sam later finds her in the bushes, crying tears of blood and begging him to help her. The good guy bartender winds up serving her cases of Tru Blood and demanding to know what happened to her while insisting she call Lafayette and Sookie — the last two people she wants anything to do with. She’s looking like a pretty hopeless case until Sam puts in the walk-in freezer for her daytime safety nap.
The next day, Lafayette and Sookie walk into Merlott’s looking for her and Sam shows them the way just after Sookie admits she was the one who turned Tara. And because Sam is the most reasonable, understanding person on the planet (he even came around on Tommy eventually), Sam says he understands that Sookie did it to give Tara another chance and that someday she’ll understand that. (How many great men is this little telepathic pixie going to reject and keep around? The lucky, fickle lady.) Even with Sam’s knowing grin, Lafayette notes that keeping Tara in the freezer is no better than “keeping a gator in the bathtub.” This won’t end well. They need to find her maker, a.k.a. Pam, the absentee mother.
NEXT: Barbecue!Unfortunately, Pam doesn’t answer the call in time and Tara practically rips Laf’s arm off before exposing her new form to the whole town and escaping off to fulfill her new master plan: Death. She breaks into a beauty salon, and instead of fixing the hairstyle she’s been rocking since Season 1, she tries to barbecue herself to death in the tanning bed. And I must say, of all the vampire deaths, she really chose the most inefficient one. She could have walked into a pointed broom stick: Boom, splat. But no. She picked something that would give someone the chance to stop her. Maybe she didn’t want to die after all.
Laying the foundation for the final scene of the episode, Sookie seeks Pam at Fangtasia, but the lady vamp is more concerned with finding Eric and she’s busy texting faster than a 13-year-old with a crush. Sookie asks her to find Tara, but Pam is too distraught, her worry combines with her seasons old jealousy of Eric and Sookie’s relationship (foreshadowing!) and she throws the fairy across the room. But Sookie’s gone rogue (heh, heh. Get it?) and she uses her light force to retaliate against Pam and further embarrass her in front of all her customers.
Her distress (and we’ll assume a little embarrassment) sends Pam into more bouts of reminiscence. She thinks back to her second meeting with Eric. He sought her at the brothel and saved one of her prostitutes from Bill and Lorena, who were on a ripper rampage. Bill is a baby vampire at the time, and it’s clear that Lorena has not done right by her progeny — she hasn’t taught him “the rules.” Eric stops them from killing yet another prostitute and we witness the beginning of Bill’s rivalry with Eric, and then, the beginning of Pam’s relationship with Eric. They “Settle her debt” for his alleyway protection the only way people that sexy can: with sex.
We skip the good part and jump to the aftermath in which Pam asks Eric to turn her into a vampire and he refuses to do it because of the immense responsibility of being a maker. “Would you toss a newborn baby in the gutter? Abandoning a new vampire’s no different,” he says. (Just look at Bill and Lorena — she’s practically dragging her newborn in the gutter.) Eric says becoming a maker is a deeper bond than any marriage. But before he can leave her so unsatisfied, she gives him an ultimatum by slitting her wrists. “Let me walk the world with you... or watch me die.” Obviously, he turned her. And thus, the psuedo-sexual relationship between maker and progeny makes sense, and we learn that Pam has been the reacher in the Pam-Eric relationship since Day One.
All this reflection on Eric’s actions towards her and their usually tight relationship saddens her since they’re still on such uncertain terms, but it also awakens a responsibility in Pam that she wasn’t willing to absorb in the immediate wake of the Wal-Mart sweatsuit incident. When Tara starts to rotisserie herself, Pam senses it and with every tiny inflection in her three-word response, we know she’s going to pick up the maker torch: “You stupid bitch.”
NEXT: "He's their Osama Bin Laden."At the Authority, the chancellors are descending into more nonstop arguing. Ah, the essence of politics. We learn more about Sanguinistas and their “poster boy” Russell Edgington. After ripping a man’s heart out on television, “He’s their Osama Bin Laden.” (Yes, we get it. There are political parallels.) And it’s this celebrity status that has Roman so concerned. Starving him for a year has exacerbated his hunger and his mission. Roman demands that Eric and Bill make good on their promise and bring him in or die trying because Russell threatens everything they stand for.
And he’s serious about the “die trying” part. He has Tina Marjorino, TV tech expert of choice, strap the two dashing vampires with instant kill devices to deter them from escaping the death star compound or straying from the anti-Russell plan.
To make matters worse, Steve Newland is the new Nan Flanagan. But his sudden disregard for human intelligence infuriates Roman. It’s too close to the views that Sanguinistas, who want to farm humans like cattle, hold. Roman believes the Authority is the only thing keeping the civil war between humans and vampires from erupting. Newland keeps his job under the pretense that he wait to gloss things over until after Russell does something, instead of up lying to prevent panic now.
Of course, they’re hoping to catch Russell before he does anything Newland would need to gloss over, but Bill and Eric’s kill harnesses aren’t enough. Roman’s favorite chancellor and bedtime buddy, Salome, seduced both vamps to see if they are being truthful. In case we were wondering, she is the Salome and she thinks the Bible’s rendition of her history is “little better than Us Weekly.” Clever. Now the writers can make her whoever they want. She seduces Bill by praising his two remaining prized possessions: His flailing political career and his ability to let his heart rule him. “We’ve become so jaded. We celebrate our own cynicism.” She finds his emotional core refreshing. She seduces him and asks him to prove he’s trustworthy by taking her life into his hands. Boom, vampire jackhammer sex in the basement. Apparently, this means he’s trustworthy.
Next, Salome takes her turn on Eric. She summons him to her chambers, but he’s not buying her seduction. Then, she finds the right chord: His heart has recently been broken by Sookie. But that still doesn’t quite work. So she takes off all of her clothes. Yep, that’ll do.
NEXT: Debbie's death can't stay hidden forever.And while Eric is having his fun, the southern chancellor is torturing Nora, and when she threatens to use the kill devices on Eric and Bill, Nora finally admits she’s a staunch believer in the Sanguinista moment. Roman is understandably crushed, but Christopher Meloni’s portrayal exposes his character’s deep-rooted issue with getting his way. It starts to be unclear whether or not he’s upset about the fundamentals of the Mainstreaming movement being threatened or if he’s just upset that his plans aren’t going the way he envisioned them. This point is strengthened when Salome asks Roman to change course because he immediately turns down her plea. He wants to continue his path, even if it’s not working. His way, or no way.
Meanwhile, Sookie is getting herself into trouble. Debbie’s death can’t stay hidden forever. Debbie’s parents find Alcide and ask him what happened to her, but Sookie’s okay for the moment because she lied to Alcide about Debbie’s whereabouts. Her tells her parents he abjured her, or gave up his wolf claim on her, because she was back on V and cheating on him. They said the sheriff found all her belongings and they know something terrible happened to her, which means all roads will soon point to Sookie.
Sheriff Andy questions Sookie about it, but she plays dumb and unfortunately Andy starts asking the right questions: Was Debbie jealous of Sookie’s relationship with Alcide? She skirts the question and says unless it’s illegal to dislike someone, she’s innocent. Lafayette can’t handle her bold approach because he’s paranoid and concerned that Andy’s onto something and that he’ll catch them in their giant lie. Luckily, Sookie hears his thoughts and he’s more concerned about the Facebook picture Holly’s horrible sons posted to truly put any pieces together. Meanwhile, Sookie throws that good fortune away. She tells Alcide the truth about Debbie and he’s furious. He had her back. He was protecting her and she was going to let him go searching for a ghost. He storms off without speaking another word. And as angry as he is, who wants to bet he lets it go and comes back for some good old fashioned fairy lovin’?
While Sookie is risking her life as she knows it, Jason is pulling his 180. He runs into his old teacher, who he used to sleep with. Mary Kay Letourneau alert! Due to Jason’s insistence, he and his former corruptor (who you may recognize as the former Mrs. Don Draper) knock boots and he immediately realizes that his encounters with this woman is what created the sex monster we all know as Jason Stackhouse.
Jessica comes galloping over to his house after encountering a man whose blood had her frolicking after him like a lost boy to Pinocchio’s Pleasure Island. (His blood smells like cotton candy? Isn't that how we've heard vamps describe Sookie's blood? Faries, ahoy!) She pushes Jason up against a wall and prepares for some serious sexy time, but he stops it. He’s finally realized sex can’t be all there is. He just wants to be friends with Jessica. But he can’t. She’s like a sexy bug-zapping lamp and he’s a mosquito. But she insists they can do it because they already are friends. It’s a sweet moment, but it seems our potential Jason-Jessica romance has cooled. For now (fingers crossed!).
Meanwhile, the rest of Bon Temps is keeping it complicated. After finding the naked Facebook picture, Andy takes it to Holly, who informs him their potential relationship is just too complicated. Still, they decide to try it anyway. Terry is still wrestling his demons, only this time, Arlene isn’t taking it. The only information he’ll give her is that he’s going with Patrick to an undisclosed location for an undisclosed purpose for an undisclosed amount of time. Arlene is prepping for another few years of the single life after an unacceptable response like that.
Finally, things get nice and weird when Hoyt walks into Fangtasia dressed like a goth gimp because he’s feeling self-destructive and Lafayette is possessed by the spirit of Jesus’ former voodoo powers. The inner demon apparently convinces him to do things like pour bleach into the gumbo because Arlene is being obnoxious. Suddenly, Lafayette is just a magical catchall. This definitely won’t end terribly.
Do you think Pam is about to turn the corner on her maker duties? Do you think a Pam and Eric coupling is possible in the future? Is Roman more concerned with victory than his actual mission? Let us know in the comments!
[Image Credit: HBO]
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Widening the thematic scope without sacrificing too much of the claustrophobia that made the original 1979 Alien universally spooky Prometheus takes the trophy for this summer's most adult-oriented blockbuster entertainment. The movie will leave your mouth agape for its entire runtime first with its majestic exploration of an alien planet and conjectures on the origins of the human race second with its gross-out body horror that leaves no spilled gut to the imagination. Thin characters feel more like pawns in Scott's sci-fi prequel but stunning visuals shocking turns and grand questions more than make up for the shallow ensemble. "Epic" comes in many forms. Prometheus sports all of them.
Based on their discovery of a series of cave drawings all sharing a similar painted design Elizabeth (Noomi Rapace) and Charlie (Logan Marshall-Green) are recruited by Weyland to head a mission to another planet one they believe holds the answers to the creation of life on Earth. Along for the journey are Vickers (Charlize Theron) the ruthless Weyland proxy Janek (Idris Elba) a blue collar captain a slew of faceless scientists and David (Michael Fassbender) HAL 9000-esque resident android who awakens the crew of spaceship Prometheus when they arrive to their destination. Immediately upon descent there's a discovery: a giant mound that's anything but natural. The crew immediately prepares to scope out the scene zipping up high-tech spacesuits jumping in futuristic humvees and heading out to the site. What they discover are the awe-inspiring creations of another race. What they bring back to the ship is what they realize may kill their own.
The first half of Prometheus could be easily mistaken for Steven Spielberg's Alien a sense of wonder glowing from every frame not too unlike Close Encounters. Scott takes full advantage of his fictional settings and imbues them with a reality that makes them even more tantalizing. He shoots the vistas of space and the alien planet like National Geographic porn and savors the interior moments on board the Prometheus full of hologram maps sleeping pods and do-it-yourself surgery modules with the same attention. Prometheus is beautiful shot in immersive 3D that never dampers Dariusz Wolski's sharp photography. Scott's direction seems less interested in the run-or-die scenario set up in the latter half of the film but the film maintains tension and mood from beginning to end. It all just gets a bit…bloodier.
Jon Spaihts' and Damon Lindelof's script doesn't do the performers any favors shuffling them to and fro between the ship and the alien construction without much room for development. Reveals are shoehorned in without much setup (one involving Theron's Vickers that's shockingly mishandled) but for the most part the ensemble is ready to chomp into the script's bigger picture conceits. Rapace is a physical performer capable of pulling off a grisly scene involving an alien some sharp objects and a painful procedure (sure to be the scene of the blockbuster season. Among the rest of the crew Fassbender's David stands out as the film's revelatory performance delivering a digestible ambiguity to his mechanical man that playfully toys with expectations from his first entrance. The creature effects in Prometheus will wow you but even Fassbender's smallest gesture can send the mind spinning. The power of his smile packs more of a punch than any facehugger.
Much like Lindelof's Lost Prometheus aims to explore the idea of asking questions and seeking answers and on Scott's scale it's a tremendous unexpected ride. A few ideas introduced to spur action fall to the way side in the logic department but with a clear mission and end point Prometheus works as a sweeping sci-fi that doesn't require choppy editing or endless explosions to keep us on the edge of our seats. Prometheus isn't too far off from the Alien xenomorphs: born from existing DNA of another creature the movie breaks out as its own beast. And it's wilder than ever.
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